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<title>The White Kid, the Jook, &amp; the Bastards by Ashling</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25395418">The White Kid, the Jook, &amp; the Bastards</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashling/pseuds/Ashling'>Ashling</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Chinese Food, Comfort Food, Fluff, Gen, I miss my grandma goddammit @ real life pls end travel restrictions soon, Loyalty, POV Outsider, Truth Serum</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:00:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,135</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25395418</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashling/pseuds/Ashling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mah Hua does her civic duty.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Parker &amp; original characters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Battleship 2020, Battleship 2020 - Yellow Team</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The White Kid, the Jook, &amp; the Bastards</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/LearnedFoot/gifts">LearnedFoot</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It is Holy Fuck Go To Bed O’Clock when a spindly little white kid knocks on the window of his favorite dim sum restaurant. The owner, Mah Hua, is a short woman with her hair dyed black and so styled so puffy that it appears to be at least three inches from her head in all directions. She squints out the window at him. </p><p>“We are closed,” she says, speaking slowly and clearly, not because of her accent but because he is badly bruised. He is a regular, not a bad kid, and she thinks he might be a little brain damaged to be knocking at this hour. </p><p>“Please,” he says. “My aunt’s out of state and I really—” He looks side to side, then unzips his hoodie. Underneath, the red and blue is a familiar pattern.</p><p>“Ai-ya.” She’s already unlocking the door as he goes on and on.</p><p> “Uh, usually I wouldn’t do this kind of thing but I actually am Spider-Man and I can’t just go running around the—thank you, thank you so much—I’m actually kind of in a condition right now? Like I’ve been shot up with something? <em> Not </em>heroin, oh my God, I mean, just, like I can’t stop talking right now? I just have to keep talking, my mind is like—” he mimics an explosion with his hands. </p><p>She takes him to the back room which is usually reserved for large parties of sixteen or more, and gestures towards one of the huge tables. But instead of sitting down and waiting for his food, he trails after her as she goes into the kitchen.</p><p>“I don’t mean to be rude, I’m so sorry, I just have to keep talking to someone or—or I feel like something bad is going to happen? So if you don’t—” </p><p>She shoves a piece of her own late-night snack, re-fried lo bak go, into his mouth. </p><p>“Oh, that’s amazing,” he says, mouth full. “That’s, that’s spectacular. What do you—”</p><p>She shoves another piece in. That does the job for a little while, long enough for her to get some jook out of the fridge and into the microwave.</p><p>“You’re a genius,” he says. Then he swallows. “It actually does feel a bit easier when I’m eating, I mean, before I was really worried that I was going to tell you I have a crush on—”</p><p>Double lo bak go, right away. He gives her the thumbs-up. </p><p>Unfortunately, the lo bak go and the jook (and the siu mai, and the ha gow) is not enough to keep him silent forever, but she tolerates him, playing mah jong on the iPad her grandson gave her and grunting occasionally as he expounds first on romance, then on crime, then on homework, then on his aunt’s social life, and finally on the meaning of life itself. It really is mostly nonsense. But he is so polite, and he eats well. She likes to see it when people eat well, and she tells him so.</p><p>“Thank you,” he says. “And I, you know, I like to see it when older women wear colors, as well.”</p><p>Hua looks down. Ah. She had forgotten that she spilled some marinade on herself earlier and had to change into one of her husband’s shirts, a huge pink thing emblazoned with Hello Kitty’s face. Also a gift from her grandson. Hm. The boy is going on and on, still.</p><p>“Not like, oh God, not like I’m hitting on you, or definitely not like you should care what I think! But my aunt, the other day, she was looking at this dress because we went to the mall to get me something for graduation and then we stopped at the sale rack because we always stop at the sale rack because she always tells me that you never know what could be at the sale rack but if it’s good it won’t stay there for long so you always have to stop and check?” Huge breath. “Anyways she was looking at this dress and she goes to me, ‘I don’t know, Peter, maybe it’s a little too young for me?’ and I thought, that’s horrible, it’s really horrible that people have to feel bad about what they’re wearing because how old they are, and we should all just—ohshit.”</p><p>There’s a loud knock at the door. </p><p>“Spidey senses, spidey senses, why couldn’t they work way faster this time?” the kid sings. “Can they give me escape? No they can’t, they’re just shit.” As he sings, he’s clearly searching for anyplace he can hide. </p><p>Hua puts her tea down, and leads him to the walk-in freezer. It is not a comfortable place, but she knows its layout better than she knows the layout of her own closet. She finds a space for him behind several bins of produce stacked high.</p><p>At the front door, someone is shouting, “Mr. Mah, we know you’re in there!” Which is a remarkable thing to say, considering that her husband has been dead for two years. And died in prison, where they put him. You would think they kept better track of things like that.</p><p>Her grandson would be very proud of her for all this, but that would be his young ego trying to take credit. He thinks he needs to teach her things, like All Cops Are Bastards. But she has been on this planet for four times longer than he has, and she knows damn well who’s a bastard and who’s not.</p><p>The boy is still talking to her, although now he’s whispering. At least he is not singing anymore. That is a mercy.</p><p>“Talk to your phone,” she says. And then, after a few seconds more of babble, the freezer is quiet, save for some tap-tap-tapping.</p><p>She gets up. Her joints hurt. </p><p>“That was really smart,” he whispers. More tapping.</p><p>“Type quieter,” she says. Then she leaves.</p><p>The police search the restaurant top to bottom, but they find nothing. Apparently somebody saw her letting the boy in. One of her neighbors. She wonders which one; she has some theories, but no evidence. After about an hour of searching and asking her questions, the police finally go away. It will be daylight soon. “Bastards.”</p><p>There is no boy in the freezer when she returns. The back window is left ajar. She shuts it and locks it up, then pats it once; she doesn’t know why. It is very quiet, despite the background hum of the city. Maybe her grandson will call her tomorrow.</p><p>She is still hungry, so she lets herself have some bao with another cup of tea. Only half a gai mei bao—she has to remember what the doctor said about sugars—but she enjoys it very much. Then she goes home.</p>
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